A/N: Thanks so much to all who've read, reviewed, favorited, and put this story on alert. And this time, a special thank you for your patience since it's taken me a bit longer than usual to update due to holidays, trips to Florida, etc. Now that I'm back in the swing of things, updates will be coming more quickly.

As I'm sure you can tell from the chapter title, this fic will now be earning its T rating. I'd just like to throw it out there that I do not write smut, and as such there will be no smut in this fic. There will, however, be allusions to the fact that Ron and Hermione now do more than just sleep in the bedroom. ;) Hopefully this is a system that works for all.

Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter.

"The First Morning After"

25 September 1999

Despite the fact that she lived in her very own flat, held a proper job at the ministry, and paid all her own expenses, Hermione Granger supposed that she had never felt quite so much like an adult as she did when she awoke one morning in late September to find herself naked, lying in very close proximity to her equally naked boyfriend. Maybe it was the fact that she'd lost her virginity without having to sneak around and feel dirty about it. Or maybe it was just the fact that she'd now have to answer "yes" when the muggle doctor she still saw asked her if she was sexually active. At any rate, Hermione knew she felt a bit different that morning—more grown up.

But at the same time, it was as though nothing had changed at all, she thought as she lightly stroked Ron's arm, which was draped unceremoniously over her bare stomach. This felt right. She was glad they'd waited, yes, but now that they'd taken that next step, she couldn't imagine things being any other way. Then again, every moment of the past eight years had led to this, and if they hadn't waited so long and allowed so many other things to happen first, then maybe this moment wouldn't be so special. Hermione shook her head. She was thinking too much again. If she'd learned anything last night, it was that sometimes it was best to stop thinking. Sometimes it was best just to feel.

Ron shifted a bit next to her, and she shivered as she felt his skin brush against hers. It had really happened. It had been awkward and fumbling, but it had also been sweet and honest and perfect. Hermione had always heard that sex was mediocre the first time, and she supposed that in some ways it was. It had definitely hurt a bit initially, and it didn't really last long once the actual intercourse started. But despite a bit of clumsiness at first, Ron had been gentle and attentive. He'd made her feel so incredibly loved, on a level so much deeper than words alone could express. Hermione couldn't deny that she'd been a bit nervous about being so exposed in front of anybody, but it was as if he'd thrown her insecurities across the room along with her knickers. Afterward, once they'd both caught their breath and wiped the sheen of sweat from their faces, they'd held each other close and talked, more openly than ever before, about everything they used to avoid: feelings and emotions and love, or as Ron called it, "all that mushy stuff." Hermione smiled at the memory. It'd easily been one of the best nights of her life.

Not one to lie in bed for too long, Hermione soon leaned over to kiss Ron lightly on the cheek, receiving only a snore in response, before slowly extracting herself from the bed. She briefly considered waking Ron and inviting him to join her in the shower, but quickly shot that idea down when she realized that it was highly unlikely they'd have enough coordination to do such a thing on their second go. Besides, she thought, blushing, they'd have plenty of time for experimentation later. So she moved into the bathroom alone, nearly getting her foot caught on the way, in the straps of a bra that had somehow found itself clear across the room from the bed. As she turned on the hot water for her shower, Hermione began to reminisce about the night before…

12 Hours Earlier

"The point is, that film was really strange, Hermione," Ron remarked as they climbed the last flight of stairs that led to her flat on the third floor of what was admittedly an old, creaky building. Though it was located in a perfectly safe area of the city, Ron had never liked the look of it and always insisted on walking her to the door after their dates. Hermione had stopped protesting awhile ago.

"It was your idea to see it," she reminded him. "If you'd just listened to me we could've seen that French film at the theatre down the street—"

"What, and have been bored out of my mind for three hours?"

"Two hours and forty-six minutes, actually. And there would have been subtitles."

"Not the point," Ron muttered, but he dropped the subject. "Dinner was really nice."

"Yes, we should get seafood more often," Hermione agreed, fishing her keys out of her pocket to unlock the door. She'd gotten her door fixed so that it couldn't be opened by magic, a safety precaution that Ron understood and appreciated, but still considered a bit unnecessary considering the complicated wards she'd placed on her flat that allowed only himself, Harry, Ginny, and her parents to enter without Hermione's accompaniment. Nonetheless, it only took a second longer to use a key than a wand, and they were soon able to enter her flat. It was fairly small, featuring what was really an excuse for a kitchen, a sitting room adorned with more furniture than could really reasonably fit, a bedroom, and a single bathroom, but it was Hermione's and she loved it.

Hermione crossed the sitting room into the kitchen and began to fix them some tea. She heard the sound of Ron taking his shoes off and tossing them toward the door, but she made a concentrated effort not to scold him, just this once. She had other plans for tonight, after all. She wasn't sure what it was—maybe the way he'd placed a protective hand on her waist when she'd been the object of drunken catcalls on the walk home, or maybe the way he'd teased her playfully while wearing that stupid smile of his—but she knew that she wanted tonight to be special. She'd known for awhile, really, but tonight seemed to be the perfect opportunity. They had nowhere to be but here, after all. While she didn't anticipate much protest from his side, she couldn't help that she was nervous. As she took two cups out of the cupboard, she called over to him casually, "Do you want to stay tonight?"

"Sure," Ron replied from his position at the small dining table. "Just let me pop back over to mine quick for some pyjamas. I don't really fancy sleeping in this," he said, gesturing toward the white button-down shirt and khakis he'd worn in the interest of looking semi-decent for their weekly date night.

Hermione sighed. Ron stayed over several nights a week without anything else happening, but she didn't want that to be the case tonight. Clearly she'd have to swallow her nerves and be a little clearer about her intentions. He'd never been one for subtlety, after all. She bit her lip as she turned to face him completely, tea almost entirely forgotten. "I was kind of thinking you wouldn't need any pyjamas."

Ron's eyes widened immediately. "You mean—?"

Hermione nodded, still biting her lip. "I mean," she breathed.

He crossed the room in an instant and trapped her between himself and the kitchen worktop, placing his hands on her waist and bringing his face not inches away from hers. "You're sure?"

"I was never not sure," she replied honestly, running her hands slowly up and down his back. "I was only waiting for the right time."

"Now's the right time? After seeing a shit film and bickering about it the whole way home?" he teased softly.

"What's wrong with bickering? I love our bickering," she said.

"So do I," he whispered before brushing his lips against hers.

Hermione, however, pulled back before things went too far. "Harry. You need to tell him—where you are," she panted.

"Right," Ron said absently before leaning in to kiss her again.

"Seriously," she said a few minutes later when they finally broke apart. "Do you want him barging in here later to check if we're alright?"

At that thought, Ron dropped his hands immediately and stumbled over to the fireplace, clumsily chucking in some Floor Powder, shouting "Grimmauld Place!", and sticking his head in.

"OI! HARRY! Oh, hey Ginny. I'm staying at Hermione's tonight. But no funny business—just cause I'm not there doesn't mean I won't know!" He finished talking and returned to Hermione's side so quickly that Hermione was quite sure neither Harry nor Ginny had gotten the chance to get a word in edgewise.

"That's kind of hypocritical, you know," she said conversationally, though she knew it was a lost cause.

"Mhm," Ron replied distractedly before pulling her flush against him and pressing his lips into her neck. "Where were we?" he murmured against her skin.

"Bedroom," Hermione gasped, taking his hands and tugging him down the short hallway.

"Bedroom indeed," Ron said as they entered the room and stopped between the door and the bed. The two stared at each other for a minute, completely silent, before simultaneously jumping forward and kissing each other with as much passion as they ever had. And as clothes found their way to the floor and Ron and Hermione found their way to the bed, they at last shed the final barriers between them and came together completely.

The Morning After Again

When Hermione finished showering and returned to the bedroom to get dressed, Ron was still asleep. She smiled tenderly at his lanky form but did not disturb him. He deserved a day to sleep in, and they didn't have anywhere to be until lunch at the Burrow.

Ron had been working so hard since he'd officially joined the Auror Department at the beginning of July. As a Junior Officer, he was eager to prove his worth so that he'd get the best shifts. There weren't many night shifts to deal with since both he and Harry worked for the Office for Domestic Affairs, which tended to handle the smaller cases unless help was needed elsewhere (something both of the boys were thankful for after seven years of tackling the biggest case they would hopefully ever see). Nevertheless, Ron wanted to be considered for the coveted eight-to-six shift as often as possible. The morning shift was far too early for his taste, and getting stuck on the evening shift normally meant Hermione wouldn't be able to see him, something neither of them were keen on.

So far, though, he'd been pretty lucky. Ron had impressed his superiors early on, many of whom Hermione suspected hadn't been expecting much from "Harry Potter's best friend." But Ron had made a name for himself, and had quickly gained a reputation for being hard-working, intelligent, and accountable. It amazed Hermione, in some ways, how brilliant he was when he simply applied himself. She'd discovered that Ron was a man of extremes. He would put every ounce of his being into the things he was passionate about, and he would put little if any effort into the things he couldn't care less about. At any rate, he was quickly deemed more than capable of being on the busy day shift. He was only called in to the undesirable shifts once or twice a week, and both he and Harry had the privilege of only being on-call every other weekend. And luckily for Hermione, this weekend was not one of them.

Hermione, meanwhile, had taken a position in the legislative office of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Though she consistently worked regular hours, she often had to bring cases home in order to make sure she completed her work to the best of her ability. This weekend, however, she'd managed to leave most of her work at the office. She was certainly happy with that decision now, as it meant she had nearly the entire weekend free to be alone with Ron, save for the family luncheon that afternoon.

After dressing in Ron's button-down shirt from the night before and a pair of her own pyjama shorts, Hermione made her way into the kitchen. Feeling inexplicably domestic, she found all the ingredients to make Ron's favorite breakfast—bacon and eggs. She hummed to herself as she cooked, carefully following the proper steps to ensure that the finished product was edible. Though she wasn't a terrible cook, she was definitely not a master chef, and she certainly did not ascribe to the archaic stereotype that it was a woman's job to cook and clean—but she did put a considerable amount of effort into cooking for Ron. After all, if she didn't cook they'd likely be getting take-out for nearly every meal.

She was just setting two plates of food on the table when Ron padded into the kitchen, sporting wet hair and too-short pajama bottoms. "There you went," he said as he approached her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and nestling his face in her hair, which had already begun to dry into its normal bushy mess.

"I thought you might want some breakfast," she said, leaning into his embrace.

"Breakfast good. Want you more," came a muffled groan from somewhere near her left ear.

"Okay, caveman," Hermione laughed, "but just so you're aware, there's bacon on those plates."

"Like bacon," he grunted again. "Love you."

"I love you too," she replied, tugging on his arms until he loosened his grip. She turned around to tap him on the nose. "Now eat your bacon."

"Yes, ma'am," Ron obliged, sitting down to the table and digging in. He finished his food in what seemed like a matter of seconds, and then occupied himself with watching Hermione eat, an activity she found a little disconcerting. In fact, after a solid two minutes of being stared at, she couldn't take it anymore.

"What?!" she snapped, a little harsher than she'd originally intended.

Regardless of her tone, a slow grin spread across Ron's face. "We had sex," he informed her proudly.

"Yes, I was there," she replied matter-of-factly, returning to her food while eyeing him warily.

Ron smiled contentedly. "You love me." His seeming imitation of a five-year-old was spot on.

"Yes, but I don't always like you," she said pointedly.

He ignored the last half of her statement. "My life is fucking awesome."

"Mind your language," she said reflexively, finishing her food and gathering their plates.

"I could tell you the same thing," he replied, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner.

"Bedroom talk will not be repeated outside of the bedroom," Hermione said primly, though she could feel her cheeks reddening. She set the dishes in the sink and cast a charm so that they would wash themselves.

"Come here," Ron said suddenly. Hermione obliged, and he pulled her down into his lap so that she was straddling him. "You should know that jokes aside, last night was seriously the best of my life."

"I know. Mine too," she replied. Resting her hands on his bare chest, she leaned in to kiss him softly. "Besides, I'd get worried if you didn't make stupid jokes from time to time."

"They're not stupid," he protested half-heartedly as his hands found their way underneath her—well, his—shirt.

"Immature, then," she conceded, planting a kiss on his shoulder.

"You know better than anyone how mature I am," he teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but said, "Don't you ever change, Ron Weasley."

"See now, I knew you liked me this way," he replied, now working the buttons of her shirt.

"Our lives are serious enough already," she said. "Imagine how drab of a couple we'd be if we were both entirely serious in moments like this."

"Dunno," he said, his lips now somewhere around her collarbone. "I can't imagine ever being bored during moments like this." A moment later, his lips were decidedly covering her own. They didn't make it to the bedroom this time.

Two Hours Later

"We're late, Ron," Hermione called as she pulled on her jacket and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder.

"Only a few minutes. I guarantee Bill won't be there yet," Ron retorted, but he made his way into the kitchen nonetheless. Though he certainly hadn't needed pyjamas the previous night, neither of them had remembered that he'd need clean clothes for lunch at the Burrow. So, he'd chosen to re-wear his khaki pants from the night before. He'd even managed to find an old Weasley jumper that Hermione normally slept in and desperately tried to enlarge it, to little avail. He'd eventually settled with rolling the sleeves up so that no one could tell it was a little small. Hermione would have laughed, but she'd explicitly resolved not to.

"Well, come on then," she said, and one after the other they stepped into the fireplace and left for Ron's childhood home.

Hermione couldn't deny that she was a bit apprehensive about seeing Molly Weasley so soon after she'd played such an instrumental role in the loss of her youngest son's virginity. Though she was far from ashamed of their actions, she had no desire to broadcast it to the public, especially not to her boyfriend's mother. Ron, however, entered the Burrow with a goofy grin on his face and his hand firmly in Hermione's in a way that made it clear something had happened.

Upon seeing them, Harry had merely muttered "I don't want to know," under his breath before inviting Ron to a game of chess. Ginny, however, took her first opportunity to pull Hermione out of the room and onto the staircase.

"You had sex," the younger girl said knowingly. "Now, I'm going to pretend it wasn't with my brother for a second and, as your closest female friend, ask you how it was. Briefly."

"How did you know?" Hermione asked anxiously, ignoring the latter part of Ginny's speech.

"You both look too happy for it to be a normal day, and due to the disgusting look of pure glee on Ron's face, I conclude that it was the first time. Now, if you don't want to tell me how it was, I won't object, because…eurgh, but I figured you might want—"

"It was great," Hermione interrupted, sensing that Ginny was a bit uncomfortable but was clearly trying to make an effort. "And he was very sweet, but don't tell him I told you that."

"Alright," Ginny said, smiling a little. "If he ever steps out of line—"

"I'll deal with him before you have to," Hermione finished smoothly. "Is it really that obvious?"

"A bit, yeah. Why?" Ginny asked as they began to make their way back to the rest of the family.

Hermione groaned. "Would you want the entire family to know what you've done with Harry?"

Ginny pulled a face. "Point taken."

Almost immediately upon rejoining the others, Hermione could see that Ginny was right. The look on Ron's face was a bit ridiculous, and she didn't doubt that she was sporting a similar smile whenever she let her mind wander back to the night before…or earlier that morning. Immediately after he finished his game of chess with Harry, Hermione pulled Ron to the side.

"You've got to stop looking so happy," she hissed.

"Why? I am happy," Ron asked confusedly.

"So am I, but I don't need everyone to know!"

"And pray tell, why do you care if people know you're happy?"

"I just don't think that everyone needs to know that we…made love. Twice," she replied pointedly.

"Made love?" Ron choked as he clearly tried to stifle his laughter. "Okay. And why wouldn't you want people to know that we did? Twice, even! We're adults now. Or at least that's the theory."

"Because I don't want your mother to think I'm a scarlet woman, that's why!" Hermione whispered heatedly, glancing around the room to ensure they weren't being overheard.

Ron chuckled. "You can't be a scarlet woman. You're only shagging me."

Hermione scowled at him. He responded by kissing her on the side of the mouth, which, although not the originally desired reaction, was not an altogether unpleasant one.

"Just relax, love," Ron said, taking her hand and leading her into the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was beginning to serve lunch. "My mum was already pregnant with Bill by the time she was your age; it's not like she can really judge you."

Hermione would have pointed out that Mrs. Weasley had been married at the time, but dropping the m-word didn't seem like the best idea when one was about to attempt to act normal at a family luncheon. Instead, she took a seat next to Ron and engaged in conversation with the rest of the family to the best of her ability, considering the large hand that quickly found its way to her thigh. She couldn't ignore the knowing looks that were being shot their way by virtually everyone at the table. This was it. They all knew it. She was approximately three seconds from standing up and screaming that yes, she'd had sex with the youngest Weasley son; that yes, she'd enjoyed it very much; and that yes, she intended to do it again. Luckily, Mrs. Weasley began to clear the plates before she embarrassed herself in such a way. Her relief was short-lived, however, when the Weasley matron asked for her help in the kitchen.

"Sorry to make you work, dear, but I wanted to chat," Mrs. Weasley said. "You can just watch if you like. There's not much to do. Or put the finished dishes in the cupboard, anywhere will do. There's a dear."

"It's not a problem, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said politely.

"But it's still appreciated," the elder woman responded. "Now I just wanted to say, Hermione, that it's clear to me you make my son very happy. I wanted to thank you for that. It's been a tough year for all of us, but Ron looks happier than ever, and I know that's largely because of the beautiful young woman in his life."

Taken aback by Mrs. Weasley's kind words, Hermione blushed. "He makes me happy, too," she replied simply.

"I'm glad to hear it. But I have to ask, dear, did something special happen last night? Now, I realize you're not wearing a ring, but—"

"Oh no, we aren't—I love Ron very much, Mrs. Weasley, but I'm really not ready to be married yet," Hermione said, blushing fiercely. "I think we both want to be somewhat established on our own first."

"Oh, that's perfectly alright dear. Take your time. I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable. You both just seem so happy today," Mrs. Weasley remarked, turning to look Hermione directly in the eye. She couldn't take it anymore. Something about the way Mrs. Weasley looked at her was so similar to her own mum that she just couldn't evade the truth.

"Last night was special," Hermione blurted.

"Oh?" Mrs. Weasley replied lightly.

"Ron spent the night, and we didn't just sleep, and I won't be ashamed about it because I'm twenty years old and he's my boyfriend and I love him," Hermione said very quickly, with no regard for run-on sentences.

"Oh, is that all?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking briefly nostalgic for a moment before adopting what Hermione thought to be a look of acceptance. "I should hope you wouldn't be ashamed of it. Ron certainly doesn't seem to be."

Hermione shook her head quickly. "Sorry—doesn't this…bother you?"

Mrs. Weasley laughed warmly. "I waited for marriage, but I learned long ago not to expect my children to make the same decision. I taught each of them about love and respect, and it certainly seems like you and Ron share those things. Just make sure you stay on the potion, dear. I'd rather plan your wedding before your baby shower."

Hermione smiled in agreement. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Anything for family, which you must know you're as good as," she replied, hugging Hermione briefly. "But I'm never going to get you or Harry to call me Molly, am I?"

"It'll take awhile," Hermione answered honestly, laughing as she placed the last of the dishes into their respective places. When she went to re-enter the sitting room with the rest of the Weasleys a moment later, she was met by Ron, who informed her in no uncertain terms that it was about time they left.

"This family cannot leave well enough alone, and if one more brother asks me about my performance, there will be hexes thrown," he said tersely. Eager to get home herself, Hermione quickly said her goodbyes, during which she heard Ron tell Harry not to be concerned if he didn't turn up later, and the couple left through the back door, opting for Apparition over Floo Powder on the return trip.

"So you want to stay again tonight?" Hermione asked, threading her fingers through his as they approached the edge of the wards.

"Only if you want me to," he said hurriedly. "And you know it's not like I expect us to shag every time I come over now, right?"

"Of course not, and you'd be sorely disappointed if you were," she stated. "I enjoy it, but I enjoy being able to walk properly too," she added quickly upon seeing a hint of self-doubt upon Ron's face.

"Is there anywhere you have to walk tomorrow?" Ron asked casually.

"Not particularly," Hermione replied flirtatiously, "and I'm afraid you still haven't got pyjamas."

Ron's grin widened. "Excellent," he breathed, before pulling Hermione close and kissing her quite thoroughly. This time, they were lucky they even made it home first.

A/N: Hopefully that was at least a bit different from the thousands of other brilliant first time fics there are in existence. For such a big step taken by Ron and Hermione, this chapter ended up being much shorter than some of the others—but not to worry. The next one is going to have a bit more to it, and it should be coming soon with a MUCH shorter wait.

Thank you so much for reading, and please consider leaving a review to let me know what you think, like it or despise it. Getting feedback makes me a very happy lady. :) I hope that all you wonderful people have a wonderful weekend!